


December 11, In Which John Learns to Knit

by Thette



Series: A December Tale [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friendship, Knitting, M/M, Movie Night, Post-Season/Series 01 AU, Pre-Slash, the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/pseuds/Thette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourth fic in A December Tale, a series of fics taking place in December 2010. This is the fluffiest fluffy friendship fluff that ever fluffed, no plot what so ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December 11, In Which John Learns to Knit

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: awahlbom, melaszka
> 
> Based on [i_know_its_0ver](http://i-know-its-0ver.livejournal.com/)'s Christmas fics, [Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes](http://community.livejournal.com/sherlockbbc/947924.html) and [Merry Christmas, Dr Watson](http://community.livejournal.com/sherlockbbc/1117433.html). Gift ideas used with permission.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://rosemaryfic.livejournal.com/8138.html) on December 11th 2010.

Despite his life as the one and only consulting detective's assistant-slash-colleague, buying Sherlock's Christmas present was more cloak and dagger than anything John had ever done before. ("When one is avoiding the attention," and all that.) He left Sherlock early in the afternoon, taking great care to behave just as he normally did when he was going over to Sarah's. (That included the common "it wouldn't kill you to buy your own milk" exchange.) Leaving the flat, he made sure he wasn't spotted by any homeless people as he took a westbound Tube. From his web searches at work, he had memorised the address of the shop that promised "London's best selection of yarn". The balls of wool he bought for Sherlock were a beautiful blue-grey that reminded him of his friend's eyes, and the ones he bought for Sarah were her favourite pastels. Packing the wool and needles he had bought in a nondescript brown paper bag, and again making sure nobody was watching, he took the Tube to Sarah's flat.

"Hello, John. Come on in, I've got some chicken curry on the stove. It should be ready in a couple of minutes." She welcomed him with a big hug and a peck on the cheek.

"It smells lovely. I've brought The Princess Bride for tonight." They had watched it three or four times already, but they never got tired of it.

"Great! Unless you want to watch Metropolis, of course?"

"Is that some new film I haven't heard about yet?"

"Quite the opposite. It's the very first science fiction film ever made, now released in a restored version with more original material than ever."

"Sarah! I fell asleep during 2001. You know I can't stand those old, slow films. I need explosions in my sci-fi."

"Uncultured lout!"

"Hey, I come here to get away from judgements like those."

"Anyway, Princess Bride sounds fine. And I have to teach you how to knit. Why?"

"Well, dinner first, and I'll show you what's in the mystery bag." Sarah's curry had just the right balance between spicy and savoury, making his eyes water slightly. Afghanistan had made him appreciate hot spices. Over dinner, he told her the story of his break-up with Beatrice. "You know, I should probably be upset about her, but I'm not. I don't even miss her that much. We weren't really a good match. I need someone who's not planning on settling down any time soon, someone who enjoys danger almost as much as I do."

"So what you're saying is that I'm still your ideal woman." Was she flirting? Surely not. They didn't do that, not anymore.

"In some ways. I'm sort of sad it didn't work out between us." He could try flirting back, see how she'd react.

"Occasionally, I'm sad, too. But I can't fake sexual attraction, John, and you're about as attractive as my brother."

"Ouch!" Yeah, that was answer enough, and if he was honest with himself, their friendship had long since passed the stage where attraction was even possible. Time to change the subject. "How's your brother doing, by the way?" They chatted a while about her family and holiday plans (silently agreeing not to mention his hurricane of a sister), about their work at the surgery and their common acquaintances. Eventually they moved over to the sofa. He picked up the paper bag, and gave her the pastel wool. "An early Christmas present for you."

"Oh, John! It's gorgeous! Now you really need to tell me why you want to learn to knit."

"I want to make Sherlock a scarf for Christmas. That shouldn't be too hard, right?"

"No, scarves are good projects for beginners. Let's see what you've got. Oooooh! That blue will look really good on him! Any pattern in particular you have in mind?"

"Well, I want to make him a scarf, as I said. An elegant one." He hadn't considered the project any further than that.

"If you want it to be relatively easy to make, you could do garter stitch. That's all knit, no purl, but it will give the scarf a bit of a Tom Baker look. Stocking stitch, which is knit every other row and purl every other, will give you a smoother scarf, but the edges will probably curl."

"You're the expert, but I think I'll go for garter stitch." Easy was good. He couldn't imagine Sherlock in the Doctor's scarf, but he thought Sarah had meant the texture and not the length or the colours.

"As you wish," she quoted. He giggled. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I learnt how to suture. Knitting can't be much more difficult."

"This is how you cast on." She repeated the move about forty times. "And then, you bring the thread around like this when you knit. Purling is for the next project."

"OK." He cuddled up in the right corner of the sofa and spread the blanket over his legs. Sarah sat down in the left corner, her feet between his for warmth.

"And then you do it over and over again until you've got at least six feet for a good scarf."

John started knitting, slowly at first, but he picked it up very quickly. He enjoyed the well-watched film, quoting along with Sarah. The blue-grey yarn turned into row upon row of stitches. He thought about the serial killer cabbie when the Battle of Wits was on the screen, like he always did. (He had made Sherlock watch that scene afterwards, and then suffered an hour-long lecture on mithridatism.) As the end credits rolled, he stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. "My shoulder hurts. How do knitters do this without getting cramp?"

"Well, most knitters have never been shot in the shoulder, but you're making a beginner's mistake and keeping your arms tense. You need to relax a bit."

"If we swap places, I think I can keep this up for another film."

"OK. Love Actually?" She had also started knitting. He guessed it would be a pale grey jumper when it was finished.

A while into the romantic comedy, he sighed. "You know, I think I've given up on love. I'm fine with being single."

She smiled enigmatically at him, looking like the Mona Lisa. "Are you?"

"Yes, I am. I've had enough of chasing women. Fair enough, if the perfect partner just happens to drop into my lap, just like that, but I'm not looking any more."

"No, what I meant was, are you really single?" He could feel the surprise on his face, but he couldn't get even one word past his lips. She chuckled. "I know you and Sherlock aren't having sex, but you are more than colleagues, friends and flatmates. You're both the most important person in each other's lives, and I don't think you have the time or energy for another commitment like that."

"Bugger!" he shouted. "The needle's slipped out completely," he explained. Sarah helped him get back on track, and they focused on the film again.

After nearly three hours of knitting, he had two feet of scarf. "Can you come here twice more before Christmas?" she asked, and he nodded. "You can sleep on my sofa, if you want to."

"No, thanks. I'm getting old. My neck can't cope with your sofa any more."

As he got ready to leave, she hugged him tightly. Then she held his face in her hands and looked up at him with warmth in her eyes. "Think about it," she said, and closed the door behind him.


End file.
